by CW Browning
A second later, she ducked behind the floor to ceiling bookshelf. No shouts of alarm followed her and she sucked in a deep breath as she continued along the aisle, not slowing her pace. She made it! She’d made it without them seeing her!
Elation warred with the panic coursing through her and Evelyn bit her lip as she reached the end of the aisle. As she had suspected, the outer wall formed a corner, joining another narrow aisle that ran the length of the wall behind the rows of books. Rounding the corner, she leaned against the bookshelf, breathing heavily.
A hand grabbed her wrist and Evelyn jumped, clamping her teeth down hard to keep from crying out.
“Come on!” The woman whispered, tugging on her wrist. “This way. Keep close.”
Evelyn followed, staying close to her. They moved quickly, pausing at each row so the woman could peer around the bookshelf and up the aisle. At the third row, her fingers tightened around Evelyn’s wrist and she stood very still. Evelyn held her breath, standing perfectly still behind her. Then she heard it, the low murmur of German coming from the front of the next aisle. Straining, she tried to make out what they were saying, but it was too muffled at this distance. Her mysterious friend was silent, listening. Then, after a moment, she peeked around the edge of the row.
They began moving again, but this time she didn’t stop at the next row. Instead, she broke into a run, releasing Evelyn’s wrist. Evelyn kept pace with her, her heart in her throat as she looked over the woman’s shoulder. There, a few feet ahead, was a door.
They reached it at a full run and the woman twisted the handle, throwing it open and disappearing through without a backward glance. Evelyn followed, then grabbed onto a thin, wrought iron railing as she skidded to a stop. A narrow metal staircase spiraled down before her and her new friend was already a few steps down.
“Hurry!’ she hissed, glancing up. “Close the door!”
Evelyn closed the door quietly behind her and then started down the narrow steps, her gloved hand gripping the railing for support. The steps were deadly and she had sudden visions of her stockinged foot slipping on the cold metal. Swallowing, she pushed her fear aside and followed the woman, reaching the bottom a moment later.
The woman pulled her away from the bottom of the steps and they pressed against the wall, out of sight from the door above. Pausing to catch their breaths, the two women listened for the sound of the door opening. When only silence ensued, the woman exhaled softly.
“I think we made it,” she whispered, glancing at Evelyn. “There’s a door that leads outside at the end of this corridor. Let’s go.”
Evelyn nodded and reached down to slip her shoes back on before following the woman down the cold and narrow hallway to a heavy door.
“How do you know about this?” she whispered.
“We all know about it,” the woman replied over her shoulder. “We have to, in case of situations like this.”
They reached the heavy door and late afternoon sunlight streamed in when she pushed it open. Stepping into the warm sunlight, Evelyn took a deep breath, glancing behind her.
“Who are you?” she demanded. “And how did you know I needed help? And how did you know about them?”
The woman closed the door behind them and turned to face her, squinting in the bright sun.
“My name is Josephine Rousseau,” she said, holding out her hand. “For the rest, would you mind waiting until we’re away from here? I don’t entirely trust our safety just yet.”
Evelyn took the offered hand. “I’m Evelyn.”
“Well Evelyn, why don’t we go somewhere else and I’ll explain what I can?” Josephine suggested with a quick smile.
Evelyn gave her a searching look, then nodded.
“After you.”
Evelyn nodded to the waiter as he set a cup of coffee before her, then looked across the small table at Josephine. They were seated in the back corner of a café in what Evelyn’s mother would have termed as a “questionable” section of the city. Cigarette smoke curled around the small room, tinted varying shades of blue and gray by the sunlight making its way determinedly through the small window panes at the front of the café. Another time, Evelyn might feel decidedly out of place, but right now she was grateful for the protection of the anonymous neighborhood so far removed from the library.
“How did you know about the library?” she asked, lifting her cup to sip the coffee. The strong, hot liquid warmed her and Evelyn felt the trembling in her arms and legs, which had been plaguing her since their flight, ease.
“Karl contacted me when he hid the package,” Josephine told her. “It was the alternate plan, you see.”
“Karl? You know about Karl?” Evelyn gazed at her in bemusement. “I don’t understand.”
Josephine looked at her for a moment, her brows creased in a frown.
“I can see that you don’t,” she said, setting down her cup. “How long have you been working for Bill? He didn’t tell you about the rest of us?”
Evelyn swallowed uncomfortably. “No.” Her gaze wavered and she lowered her eyes to her coffee. “To be honest, this was my first time doing anything like this.”
Josephine stared at her, her mouth dropping open. “What?”
She nodded miserably. “I certainly managed to make an absolute mess of it, didn’t I?”
“What do you mean this was your first time?” Josephine demanded.
Evelyn shrugged. “Just that.”
There was a moment of stunned silence, then Josephine started laughing. Evelyn watched her uncomfortably.
“I don’t see what’s so amusing,” she muttered. “I’ve gone and mucked it all up.”
Josephine shook her head, the laughter dying on her lips. “Far from it! You did splendidly well! I know seasoned couriers who wouldn’t have done any better, and most would have been caught. Why on earth did Buckley send you?”
“I think he thought it would be a very easy pick-up.”
Josephine tilted her head thoughtfully, then sighed.
“Yes. I suppose he did. There’s no way he could have known Karl would be followed out of Germany.” She drank some coffee, motioning for Evelyn to do the same. “Drink. It will help settle your nerves. You must be terrified.”
Evelyn lifted the coffee and drank obediently, not answering. Josephine watched her for a minute, then set her cup down again.
“I’ll try to explain what I can,” she said, “although, I’m not sure how much will make sense to you. In the past year, it’s become obvious that Adolph Hitler poses a very serious and immediate threat to France. While most of our government doesn’t want to acknowledge it, there are some that do. They’re mainly in the Army, and they’ve been trying to build up a network to gather as much intelligence as they can. It’s not easy, though, and most people have no idea what they’re doing or what information to look for. Then William Buckley came along. In the past few months, he’s managed to build a solid network through France and into Germany to gather intelligence for MI6 in London.”
“How do you come to work with his network?” Evelyn asked. “Why are you not working with the French efforts?”
Josephine smiled and shrugged. “I am. Right now, we’re all working together, you see. Our numbers are so few that we’ve had to combine efforts in order to get any kind of reliable information. As our French network grows stronger, I’m sure that will change, but for now, I help where it will do the most good. And that is with Buckley.”
“Are you a courier?”
“No. I support the couriers. Today, when Karl had to activate the alternate plan, I went to the library to make sure you picked up the package successfully.”
“And if I hadn’t?”
“Then I would have retrieved it and sent it on through the network. It would have taken a few days at least to reach Bill, so you understand that it is not ideal.” Josephine paused and looked at her. “Thankfully, I didn’t have to resort to that. Although, you had me worried for a minute. What on e
arth were you thinking to put the package in your handbag? That’s the first place they look!”
“I know. Karl told me.”
“Mon Dieu! Then why did you do it!?”
“I didn’t.”
Josephine stared at her. “I saw it! He took the envelope from your bag!”
“The envelope, yes. Not the information.” Evelyn rubbed her forehead tiredly. “I took it out and put the envelope in my bag as a diversion. I wasn’t expecting him to open it before he’d gone two steps.”
Dark eyebrows soared into Josephine’s forehead.
“Then where’s the information that was in the envelope?”
Evelyn reached up and pulled the pin from her hat, lifting it off her head. As Josephine watched in fascination, she turned the small blue hat over and folded the inside lining back. There, nestled between the lining and the hat, were the microfilm strips.
“Fantastic!” Josephine breathed, suitably impressed. “Well done again! And you say you’ve never done anything like this before?”
Evelyn replaced the hat on her head, sliding the pin back in to hold it in place.
“Karl warned me to put it somewhere it wouldn’t be found before we parted,” she said. “I had the entire tram ride to consider my options.”
“How did you fall into this, anyway?” Josephine asked, studying her. “You’ll forgive me for pointing out that you are hardly what I’m used to seeing. You should be in Paris, going to parties and gracing the social pages.”
Evelyn was surprised into a short laugh.
“I was,” she admitted. “Monsieur Buckley is a family friend. I went to visit him for lunch yesterday and he confided that he needed someone to pick up a package in Strasbourg. I volunteered.”
“That’s it? You just volunteered?”
“There was a little more to it than that,” Evelyn said with a shrug, “but essentially, yes. If I can help in any way to get information back to London to help them make better decisions about Nazi Germany, then I’ll do it.”
Josephine shook her head.
“That was before you knew you were going to run into two Gestapo agents, eh?” she asked. “Do you have any idea how close that was back there?”
“A bit, yes,” Evelyn said dryly. “If you hadn’t grabbed me, I don’t know…”
Her voice trailed off as a violent shudder went through her. The reality of what could have happened crashed over her and she felt her hands begin to tremble again as her skin went hot and then cold. Josephine reached across the small table and her strong fingers closed around one of her hands.
“There’s no point in thinking about it,” she said. “I was there, and now you can return to Paris, victorious in your first mission.”
Evelyn met her gray eyes and the two women shared a smile. Josephine squeezed her hand and released it.
“Do yourself a favor, though, and consider what you would have done differently now,” she told her, finishing her coffee. “You did the best you could in a situation you weren’t expecting, but that won’t always be enough.”
Evelyn was silent, lifting her cup to finish the coffee.
“What I want to know is how on earth you knocked that Gestapo agent out,” Josephine said after a minute. “I’ve never seen anything like it. How did you do that?”
Evelyn set her cup down with a click.
“I don’t remember,” she lied. “I panicked.”
Josephine’s blue eyes bore into hers for a moment, then she shook her head.
“Well, I wish I did that when I panicked,” she said with a grin. “It was wonderful.”
Evelyn smiled and was silent. She rarely spoke about her unusual training. She had learned as soon as she returned to England that others didn’t understand, nor want to understand, the strange ways of the Orient. Her peers were set in their staunchly English ways and found it disturbing that she had enjoyed her time away from England. If any of them ever suspected that the gently born and well-connected debutante could defend herself in ways unheard of for a woman in the West, her social standing would be destroyed. Aside from Stephen and her own family, no one had any idea she had brought much more than a few fans and shawls back from Hong Kong.
And she was determined to keep it that way.
Chapter Eight
“I told you to follow and watch, not confront!” Hans Voss said furiously, jogging down the spiral steps of the library to the first floor. “How dare you disobey my order!”
“She was retrieving something Karl Gerst left here,” the man argued, hurrying to keep up.
Hans stopped suddenly and swung around, causing the man to pull up short or plow into him.
“You don’t know that! I wanted her watched until I came. Instead, you caused a scene!”
“I didn’t cause a scene.”
“You confronted her and she hit you. I’m curious. What would you call that, if not a scene?” He made a disgusted sound in the back of his throat and turned to stride angrily across the lobby to the front entrance of the library. “Now we’ve lost her and anyone else who might have been with her.”
“There was no one with her,” the man muttered.
Hans sent him a scathing look. “You’ll forgive me if I don’t take your word for that, Herr Sturmmann Maurer.”
Herr Maurer’s lips tightened and he was silent as they strode outside. Hans looked up and down the busy road and shook his head in disgust.
“She’s long gone, and who would blame her?”
“If she wasn’t doing anything wrong, then she had nothing to fear,” Herr Maurer pointed out. “Yet she was afraid. I could smell it.”
“Of course she was! You accosted her and grabbed her arm in a secluded section of a library!” Hans turned his arctic gaze on him. “How many times have I told you that if you want to attract bears, you must use honey? There is a time to threaten, and a time to placate.”
“But she had retrieved—”
“Nothing! Absolutely nothing! An empty envelope!” Hans took a few steps then stopped and swung around again in his frustration. “Which probably did indeed hold theatre tickets at one point in time! She was never a suspect, you fool!”
Herr Maurer stared at him. “Then why did you have me follow her?”
“To see if she met with anyone else.” Hans turned and continued walking back towards the tram stop. “We know Herr Gerst brought something with him from Munich, but we don’t know what. He met with her, yes, but we have no proof that he gave it to her. In fact, I saw nothing of the sort. The only thing he handed her was a cigarette, which she took from his case herself!”
“But we saw him come out of the library earlier!” Herr Maurer protested. “Why else would he have gone to a library if not to hide what he brought across the border?”
“Agreed. But there is no indication that Fräulein Richardson was the intended recipient.”
“She went to the same library!”
“Which is also the closest library to the café! Think! She is a reporter. Where would a reporter go to write? I swear you had a brain when you were first assigned to me. What happened? Are you bored? Shall I recommend a transfer for you? To Vienna, perhaps?”
Herr Maurer’s face flushed a dull red.
“Perhaps it is you who have grown too cautious,” he retorted. “You are quiet and polite when we should be asserting our will.”
Hans glared at him.
“You will watch your words carefully when you address me, Herr Sturmmann Maurer,” he said icily, stressing the other man’s enlisted rank.
Herr Maurer swallowed and inclined his head deferentially. “My apologies, Herr Untersturmführer.”
Hans held his gaze for a long moment coldly, then finally gave a clipped nod. Herr Maurer breathed a sigh of relief.
“You would have me charge in like an American cowboy, causing a scene in a French city when the Führer has expressly ordered that no confrontations take place outside of German borders?” he demanded. “Why? To what purpose
?”
“To get back whatever Karl Gerst stole from the Fatherland,” Herr Maurer answered promptly.
“I can promise you this,” Hans said as the tram rumbled towards them, “whatever Karl Gerst brought across the border is not worth the repercussions of going against a direct order. Not that I’d expect you to appreciate that. You seem to take great delight in disregarding direct orders.”
“I did what I thought was best at the time. I had to make a decision. It was clear that she had moved to retrieve the information.”
“Clear?” Hans arched one eyebrow. “Was it?”
Something in the look on his face made his companion flush again and uncertainty crept across his face.
“Not quite as clear as you thought, eh Herr Sturmmann?”
The tram stopped before them and he climbed on, heading to the back where they could speak without fear of being overheard. Strasbourg had been part of Germany for the better part of fifty years before the Treaty of Versailles awarded it back to France. Many of the population spoke German, even if they now predominantly used French. He sank into a seat and looked out the window over the city street. If the Führer had his way, Strasbourg would once more be part of the Reich. When that day came, the French would be expelled and the city would return to what it was meant to be.
“Let me suggest an alternate scenario,” he said as Herr Maurer seated himself beside him, not taking his gaze from the street. “Herr Gerst met with a man in Strasbourg twice before. This we know. He comes this time carrying information stolen from the Reich. But he knows we are following him. He cannot give the information to his contact. He thinks he lost us in the city and goes to the library. He is inside for nine minutes and twenty-three seconds precisely before he leaves and goes to the café.”
“This is hardly an alternate scenario. It’s what happened.”
Hans waved a hand impatiently. “You assume that the person he is meeting at the café is his contact.”